Four

WARNING: swearing language.

     There are days where I don't know what hurts worse; waking up and knowing no one cares, or waking up and just not caring myself. I've been depressed lately, but I can't say I'm sure why. It's like I'm fine when I first wake up, but about an hour or two later when I'm actually alert and doing something, it just kicks in.

 

     I don't mean to thrive off of depression. I guess it runs in my blood. My mother's the queen of depression-feeding. I guess that's why she wants so bad for everyone else to be miserable; so she's not the only one. Still, that isn't fair. I don't want to be in an unpleasant mood all the time. I don't want to think about everything that's happened, or that's going on as we speak. I just want to laugh and be happy and calm down for a while.

 

     First thing in the morning, every single dreadful Monday through Friday, I have precalculous for the first hour. Mind you, I'm not bad at math... if I know how to do whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing. But this teacher, or rather, this supervisor, chooses not to help me, one of the four students in that forsaken class.

 

     His last name is Jackson, but I personally prefer to refer to him as Coach 'Jack-a*s'. He is probably one of the most rude, disrespectful, disgusting teachers I've ever had or met. I've had quite a bit of bad teachers, but I'd have to say he takes the cake. We had a sub one day who told us that this b***h goes up to random people and pops their blemishes without their consent. And I'd have to admit that I believed him.

 

     I've never had trouble with math this bad before. If I had a problem before, I was always caught up enough to figure it out myself. But this year isn't like that. No, this year, I've missed far more school than all my years combined. I know senior year is like that in the movies. It's supposed to be the slack year, the kick-back and relax year. Let me give you a fair warning now if you're not there yet: it's not. And as much school as I've missed due to dealing with my mother in court, lack of motivation, and sickness, there's no way to even try to make it up.

 

     On top of everything, I'm worried about graduation. I was called in by the counselor to discuss that, and she told me that if I worked hard enough, it's right in my reach. Ha, hard to believe when your daily routine consists of anxiety piled on by fifty different unnecessary situations you can't get rid of. But she showed me the number of credits I have, versus the number I need. It isn't that great of a difference. I have twenty-two and need twenty-six. If I can pass all these damn core classes I'm taking, I'm there... easier said than done.

 

     I managed to get everything but pre-cal up to passing standards. I failed my final because it wasn't multiple-choice... Jack-a*s made the test himself, sadly. So I didn't even stand a chance when it came to that. I had an entire two hours, which I'd planned to use the rest of for a nap once I'd finished my exam. But when he dropped that stack of unsolvable problems in front of me, all there was to do was stare at it and pretend to try and figure it out.

 

     What I did while I was supposed to be taking this awful test was think. And think. And think. But not about math. No, I thought about Joni. And I thought about this whole stupid circumstance, and how, maybe, just maybe if I'd dealt with her s**t a little longer, I might not still be in the mess I'm in. S**t, maybe nothing like this would've ever happened at all. But I thought about it more, and when it comes down to it, if I'd have even attempted to deal with her any longer than I had, I probably wouldn't be here.

 

     In all honesty, Jay's the only reason I stay here. There are moments when I think too hard and I think about the wrong thing, or doing something I wouldn't be alive to be able to regret. But then I think about him... about Jay. About how he just waited for me. Instead of moving on, which he had plenty of opportunities to do, he just waited. He didn't care about anything else. And he didn't give up on me, just like I never gave up on him. He's stayed through everything. The good, the bad, and the ugly... he's always been there.

 

     God, when I think about the things this man has done for me, it wrenches my heart. I don't say that about many people. Really, I don't say that about anyone. But there's just something about him that gets me.

 

     I used to think I loved it when Jay cried. I know that sounds really terrible, but I did. I thought it was amazing when he cried, because I thought it was amazing that his feelings, his emotions, were so deep and real. I'd never seen anything like that in a man. I'd grown up to think that men were these creatures that took advantage of women and took everything they had for granted, and just all these things that weren't true. But the first time I saw Jay cry - and I mean really cry - it hit me.

 

     I hate it so much when he cries. And I really mean that I hate it. It tears me apart. It makes me feel like the whole world's about to end when I see him cry. He doesn't do it often, but when he does, it's not just Jay that feels pain.

 

     Usually when my husband cries, it's because he's thinking about something he shouldn't be. These thoughts are often along the lines of various scenarios about me leaving or deciding that he's not enough for me or something relative to those. Let me make this clear: That. Will. Never. Happen.

 

     Another thing that bothers him is that my family, meaning the side of it that helped Joni keep me away from him so long, doesn't know that we're married. And if they knew, we'd both be toast.